Heart of the Dreaming (11 page)

She glanced across to where TR charged ahead, swinging his whip as he closed in on the stragglers to one side.

Then, like a tidal wave parting, the horses streamed on either side of the black stallion who had suddenly balked and swung about to face his pursuers. The mob slowed, reluctant to charge without their leader. In this moment of truth it seemed to Queenie the stallion was glaring defiantly into her eyes.

Queenie didn't hesitate. She spurred Nareedah forward, running straight at the great black horse, daring him to charge her. With the dogs
barking shrilly at her heels and as she brought her whip down in a powerful crack, Queenie was unaware she was shouting at the top of her voice. Nareedah didn't flinch but surged forward, obeying Queenie's command.

Confronted with this fearless and frightening charge, the stallion swung about and raced on up the ravine.

Above the noise of the pounding hooves Queenie heard TR shouting, ‘You little beauty!' The slip rails were down, open and waiting, and the stallion raced in, followed by the fastest of the brumbies.

Too late they realised there was no way out. By the time they had turned, and in the confusion of the others following on their heels, TR and Queenie were down on the ground racing to lift the rails in place. Some of the horses hadn't made it and they paused, unwilling to abandon their leader but fearful of the strangers in their midst. Then they crashed away as Queenie and TR lashed the ropes around the slip rail gate.

Some of the brumbies, including the stallion, reared and smashed their hooves against the confines of the pen, but the yard held firm. TR slapped Queenie on the back as he looped the last of the rope in place. ‘Well done. I thought that black bastard was going to try and run you down.'

‘Another second and he would have!' Exhilarated, Queenie surveyed the two dozen trapped horses. It had taken less than an hour.

Carefully, they inspected all sides of the pen. ‘It'll hold okay. The horses will settle down
soon.' TR wiped his forehead and pointed to the ground. A trail of ants were leaving their nest, climbing in single file up a tree. ‘Rain.'

Queenie glanced at the glowering sky and back at the nervous horses in their makeshift pen.

‘We'd better get the horses on the move before it starts.' TR pointed beyond the cliffs to where a dark grey curtain was suspended between clouds and the ground. ‘Already raining over there by the look of things.'

‘Dad will be pleased — the dams are practically empty.'

‘Let's go eat. We'll let them settle down and tomorrow we'll pull the ones we want and let the rest go. We should be able to keep them with us once we chase away the rest of the mob and the leader,' said TR.

They spoke little as they unsaddled the horses at the end of the day, lit a fire and prepared their simple meal. In the afternoon they had broken camp and moved closer to the pen in the ravine. Both were almost too tired to talk or eat.

‘I reckon we've got about six good horses in that lot,' said TR. ‘It'll be a long hard ride back with them. You going to be okay?'

‘Of course,' said Queenie.

They ate silently, occasionally looking skywards where the stars were fast disappearing behind clouds.

TR checked their horses tethered to a rail rigged between two trees near the camp. Taking another worried look at the sky he rolled into his swag.

Echoing his thoughts Queenie muttered,
‘Let's sleep while we can, I feel the rain could hit sooner than we think.'

It was shortly before midnight when the rain began. It came with a great gust of wind — a solid sheet of water as if from a bottomless, upended bucket. The storm brought an incredible cacophony of sounds — thunder, lightning, wind and rain.

Pulling on oilskin coats, they rolled up blankets and swags.

TR grabbed the saddles. He bent close to Queenie's ear and shouted through the rain, ‘Follow me, I remember where there's a cave. We'll take the horses.'

Queenie and TR led their horses with the packhorses tied behind. TR scrambled ahead, moving up to where the ground began to rise steeply towards the cliffs. The wet dogs tagged along behind the horses.

It took a while in the dark but eventually they found the opening to a small cave. They tethered the horses and ducked under a rocky overhang and into the welcome cavity that dulled the noise of the storm.

In the thin beam of light from TR's torch it looked dry and safe. ‘No snakes, wallabies or ghosts,' said TR with satisfaction.

‘Shine the torch back near the mouth,' said Queenie. ‘There's a dead tree branch, it's still pretty dry. We can use it for a fire later.'

Together they dragged the gum branch into the cave, pulled their swags from the packhorses and unrolled their blankets.

‘Dry enough for me,' said Queenie, stretching out on the floor of the cave. ‘I'm beat.
I just hope there aren't any bats in here. Hate the things.' She was soon asleep, breathing evenly, curled in her swag.

TR leant against the wall of the cave and dozed uncomfortably, while the dogs crouched out of the rain under the overhang at the mouth of the cave, their noses between their paws.

Some hours later TR stirred, feeling cold and stiff. He cocked his head, listening for the sounds of Queenie's soft breathing. Switching on his torch, he swung its beam around the cave. Queenie wasn't there. Shining the light on his watch he saw it was three o'clock. It was still pouring with rain and he wondered if Queenie had needed to step outside. Then he heard it.

Above the sound of rain came a steady roar. He knew immediately what it was and where Queenie had gone.

‘Damn her,' he muttered, ‘why didn't she wake me?' Angry and alarmed he called the dogs and headed out into the wet, dark bush.

As he slipped and stumbled down the rocky slope he could hear more clearly the sound of rushing water. The once dry river bed was now a fast rushing torrent of water. Queenie had gone to the brumbies, knowing they would be trapped.

The dogs raced ahead of him and he could hear them barking.

‘
Queenie
!' he shouted. ‘Where are you?' His words were whipped away in the wind and rain, and he knew shouting was useless. He broke into a stumbling run, tripping on the undergrowth, fearful for Queenie's safety.

Sheet lightning illuminated the sky like a crazy neon sign as he reached the pen at the end of the ravine. The water was gushing down the hillside from the waterfall and swirling around the flanks of the frantic horses. Queenie had loosened some of the ropes around the sides of the pen and was waistdeep in the water, her oilskin coat swirling about her as she struggled in the dark.

TR could see that the horses would spring straight through the gap and knock her over if she did manage to drop the barrier.

He waded through the water and grabbed her arms. ‘What the hell are you doing? You're going to get trampled,' he shouted.

‘They're going to drown unless we get them out,' she yelled back.

‘So are
you
! Here — take this and cut the ropes from that tree.'

TR unsnapped the pocket knife from his belt. ‘I'll clear it down here. Then stand back. They'll rush through the gap.'

She took the knife and splashed through the river to the bank and began hacking at the ropes around the tree. TR, cursing at his previous thoroughness, began fumbling with tight wet knots.

Queenie cut through the rope and began to wade back across the foaming river to TR. When she was halfway over, the ropes and submerged slip rails were pulled free by the force of the water.

The panicked horses seemed to sense there would be a way out if they followed the water. The stallion was first to splash and kick his
way through the opening, missing Queenie by inches.

‘Look out,' shouted TR as he raced back to the river, grabbed Queenie and pulled her out of the water.

She handed him his knife as her knees gave way and she sat trembling on the ground. TR cut the last rope and it was swept away as the mob of horses, half swimming, half running, kicked their way along the river and up on the bank.

‘You're bloody mad. Why didn't you wake me up?' demanded TR. ‘I'm responsible for you, and you nearly got yourself killed.'

‘I can look after myself,' shouted Queenie.

‘No you can't! Come on.'

Grabbing her roughly under the arm, TR pulled her to her feet and began leading her back up the hill. His grip on her arm didn't lessen until they were back in the cave where Queenie sank to the floor hugging her knees, her teeth chattering.

Silently, still angry, TR stripped off his sodden jacket and hastily began pulling the leaves and twigs from the old tree. In minutes he had a fire crackling by the entrance to the cave. As the smoke swirled out into the wet night the rain began to ease. He turned and looked at the miserable, soaked figure in the firelight.

Queenie's wet hair streamed down her back and puddles were forming under her boots.

‘Get out of that coat,' said TR, as he reached for her foot and began tugging at her sodden boot.

Queenie took off her outer layer. Her
moleskin pants were wet, but her shirt and jumper above the waist were fairly dry.

TR built up the fire and took off his own wet boots and socks, while Queenie held her hands out towards the fire. Her face looked pale and she was still shivering.

TR handed her a blanket. ‘Get your pants off — they're soaked. Wrap up in this.'

Queenie hesitated, looking at the blanket he held out to her, but TR turned his head away as she wriggled out of the dripping pants and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, folding it over her bare legs.

‘Do you want some hot tea?' asked TR, sounding less annoyed with her.

She shook her head. ‘I just woke up and heard the water and thought of the horses and knew I had to get there fast to see if they were all right. I didn't think of anything else,' said Queenie defensively.

‘It's all right, Queenie, I understand. But it was still bloody stupid of you.'

‘Don't call me stupid!' she blazed at him.

‘I apologise.' TR threw the thick branch into the fire. ‘There, that should last us till daylight.'

‘I guess we won't see those horses again,' sighed Queenie.

‘I'm afraid not,' said TR. Then, seeing Queenie's disappointed face added, ‘but they'll turn up again. Or others will … and we'll get those.'

‘Is that a deal?' asked Queenie with a small smile.

‘You bet.' TR reached out and formally shook her hand. Clasping her chilled fingers he realised how cold she was. He picked up his blanket
and moved next to her. ‘Here, get under my blanket, our body heat will keep us both warm.'

Queenie didn't argue. She felt frozen to her bones. Gratefully she snuggled up to TR as he draped his arm and blanket about her shoulders, drawing her close to his side.

They sat in silence watching the fire as Queenie felt the warmth of his body seep into her own. Involuntarily she shivered.

‘Still cold?' asked TR huskily.

Queenie shook her head, biting her lip, unable to speak. The closeness of him had caught her unawares and she was trembling. She felt again the tumbling sensations she'd experienced when she'd danced with him. She wanted to pull away but seemed unable to move. She lowered her head, hiding her face behind her damp hair.

‘Queenie …' It was almost a whisper and he leaned anxiously towards her, smoothing her hair back with his other hand. She turned and gazed at him. His hand lay still against the side of her face.

In the gold of the firelight a spark seemed to smoulder in the depths of Queenie's green eyes. She stared intently into the deep blue pools of his eyes, and her lips parted. But still she made no sound.

A pang shot through TR and he closed his eyes, his hand gripping her hair. As he gazed into her sweet upturned face a small moan escaped from him. He gently drew her face to his and softly brushed his lips against hers.

For a moment she didn't reject him or respond to him. Her eyes were open wide as his mouth touched hers.

He drew back swiftly. ‘No, I can't …'he turned away, dropping his hand from her face.

Queenie touched her mouth, feeling the tingle of her lips where he'd kissed her. Slowly she took his hand, turned it over, and lifted it to her lips, dropping a kiss into the palm of his hand.

They stared at each other with a dawning realisation of the chasm closing between them. TR leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, both their lips curving into smiles as they touched. Then he drew her to him, wildly kissing her eyelids, her face, her ears, the nape of her neck. He nuzzled his face in her hair and Queenie felt she was melting as she wound her arms about him.

Breathing in short gasps, they slipped down on to the old sleeping bag, and lay together, staring deep into each other's eyes.

‘Are you sure?' whispered TR.

Queenie nodded, and in a swift movement pulled her sweater and shirt from her body.

TR caught his breath at the sight of Queenie's full firm breasts and tapering waist, the firelight dancing across her creamy skin. Queenie smiled shyly as he studied her beauty, waiting for him to lead her to a place she'd never known; but she knew this was the time, the place and the love she'd waited to find.

He softly cupped her breasts in his hands, delicately kissing each nipple. Queenie closed her eyes as her body quivered and responded to his touch.

TR was gentle and loving, arousing and awakening her body until her passion matched
his and with a cry of pleasure she gripped his body to hers with her long lithe legs, straining to hold him deep within her.

She moaned with joy, her fingers grasping his back as his hands tangled in her hair and he clutched her to him.

‘Queenie … my love …'

‘TR, don't let me go …'

‘Never …'

They clung together, hearts beating against each other. Finally TR reached for his shirt and gently wiped away the film of sweat shining on Queenie's skin. Then he threw the blankets across them as they settled to sleep, their bodies entwined, the light flickering on the walls of the cave, the fire cracking and snapping companionably.